


Silence

by tyrotheterrible



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Community: norsekink, Love/Hate, M/M, Obsession, One-Shot, Playing With Mythology, Post-Movie, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrotheterrible/pseuds/tyrotheterrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki silences his brother the best way he knows how:  with gold thread.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/3415.html?thread=8276055#t8276055) at norsekink.

"You remember this, don't you?" says Loki softly, smiling, as the needle breaches flesh. "You remember when  _I_  suffered this. At your hands. Or was it our father's? Your father's. Not mine."

Thor hisses, growls in pain through clenched teeth, as he strains against the magick binding his limbs. Loki pays him no mind.

"No matter that I had brought him gifts," Loki continues idly. The thread--fine, spun gold, like Sif's hair used to look--draws thick redness with it as it slides through Thor's upper lip. It glows green for half a moment; mustn't have Thor breaking it. "No matter that I risked my own head to bring you those gifts. No matter that the dwarves wanted me _dead_. No. I had made fools of them, and deserved to be punished. Yes?"

Thor's impossibly blue eyes gaze up at him, bright, pleading. "Not how it happened," he tries to say, as Loki begins the downstitch.

"Shh." Loki pulls the thread taut, pulls the corner of Thor's mouth shut. "Don't speak, brother. It will only hurt more."

"Loki," Thor manages, and there is such pain and betrayal in those two syllables that Loki stabs the needle back into his lower lip, to change the word into an inarticulate sound.

"You speak to your new friends of things that should remain secret," he murmurs, watching the redness trickle into his brother's beard. "Of things that should remain between us. You tell them stories of our childhood. Of things we did together. Do you hope that they will understand?"

"Please." The word comes in a little spatter of blood, blood they do not share. "Loki."

Loki yanks the thread tight, to an agonized cry.

"I would never hear you speak my name again," he says. "Never. Again. Do you know what it does to me, to hear my name in your voice?"

Tears stream down Thor's face, mingling with the blood, thinning it. It isn't just pain in his eyes.

"You make me weak," Loki says. "Your very presence makes me less than I am. I will not have it." Every other word, another stitch, vicious, edging on frantic. "I will. Not. Have it. I  _hate_  you. I hate. What you  _do_. To me. And you never. Even. Noticed."

The thread cuts itself when he is finished, gold stitches stained with red crisscrossing Thor's pretty lips. Loki wipes the tears from his brother's cheek with his thumbs, smiling.

"There now," he whispers, like a mother comforting a child, "hush, there now, all done. Aren't you beautiful, now?"

He presses a slow, loving kiss to his brother's bruising mouth; the taste of the gold and the taste of the blood blend into each other, into one biting metallic sharpness. Fire might taste like that, if one could taste pure fire, without soot, without smoke, without ash.

"Like Freyja's necklace," he murmurs against the threads. "Though much less gaudy."

Footsteps. Several pairs. Shouting and banging.

"I must leave you now," says Loki. He brushes a lock of sweat-stringing gold hair from Thor's eyes. "Oh, don't look at me that way. Dear brother. I will return, worry not."

And he steps back, draws the shadows around himself, to watch the looks of horror break across the faces of his brother's new friends.


End file.
